A Losing Hand
by Lori1318
Summary: An answer to the the 24Hour Challenge 3...
1. Chapter 1

_A Losing Hand _

_**24-Hour Challenge #3**_

By Lori

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Don't sue me. J

Author's note: I cheated on the 24 hours and thus failed the challenge. However, in my defense, the story took over and held me captive for the time it takes me to finish penning it.

The road was empty. Not a soul was in sight as he walked along its side under the early morning sky. The rays of light just peaking over the lush tree line did little to cut through the chill that had settled deep in his bones. Ezra Standish was at complete loss as to exactly how he ended up there. It was a pitiful sight all in all.

His trouser leg flapped with each step, torn and frayed, around the fine leather boot of his right calf. His brightly colored jacket was no where to be seen and the pristine white shirt he left Four Corners with was damp with sweat and stained with the endless dust and dirt from the trail. His vest had not faired much better and stood limp, unbuttoned and in utter disrepair. A small cut had scabbed in an angry red line across his eyebrow, puffy and warm, a thin trail of red dried down the side of his face where the gash had wept. Bruising marred his cheek and eye in a spectacular mottle of blue and gray. His head was pounding. His stomach was growling with hunger and simultaneously gurgling with nausea. It was a curious sensation. His knee throbbed, his abdomen ached and his right shoulder throbbed in familiar pain. He was tired and cold and more tired.

He cast weary eyes around and found the place unfamiliar. He tried to piece together the hazy memories from the day before. _Where the hell was his horse? _He just remembered walking through the dark of the night listening to the leaves rustle in the slight wind and animals calling to each other in the silence. In the end, it didn't matter. The gambler was simply compelled to keep walking. Something was telling him to keep moving, to put distance between him and whatever it was he left behind.

The sound of horses coming fast up the well worn dirt trail could be heard. His hand drifted to his guns… only to find them missing. His gun belt long gone, holster nowhere on his person and derringer with rigging left somewhere behind him. _If he could only remember. _Voices began to carry with the soft metallic jingling on reins. Ezra Standish was without a weapon, lost, and covered in dirt, dust, and some blood. Listening to the horses approach, he knew he should be afraid, but oddly Ezra couldn't muster the energy to care. He was too damn tired and too damn sore. So he kept his head angled down and walked along the trail looking for something familiar.

"There he is." It was a young voice. Words of relief. A statement said softly that carried with the wind as the riders closed the gap faster than Ezra could put distance between them. It was a voice he knew. _JD._ Ezra paused in his steps, his head cocked in confusion, and leaned his good arm against a nearby tree. _Well, what the hell was the kid doing out here?_

Then louder, "Ezra!" It was a second voice. Two riders. One with a Texas twang. _Vin. _Ezra cracked a small smile of relief. He carefully turned toward them and waved with his good hand and called out with a rusty voice, "Gentleman." He smiled wider when he saw his horse tied to JD's and looking no worse for wear.

"For a man in your condition you covered a lot of ground, pard." Vin dismounted with soft feet and quickly ground tied his horse, "You are a wily fellow."

The grin faltered, "I'm not sure I follow you?"

"Well, hell, Ezra. We been looking for you half the night. Figured you be on your way home, not walking the opposite direction."

"I'm afraid," his voice felt like it was filled with sand, "I'm a little turned around."

Vin snorted and shook his head.

"If I took off in the middle of the night, half beaten and with no horse, I'd be turned around too," JD harrumphed. Popping open a canteen and handing to the gambler.

Ezra winced at the comment and resisted the urge to touch his swollen face. With a sigh, Ezra accepted the proffered canteen, minding not to stretch his aching shoulder, taking a long swallow before talking. He was reaching the end of his quickly unraveling rope, "JD, son. You've got me at a disadvantage. I'm not… well, things've been a mite hazy this morning. Half- beaten…" _Half-beaten…_A memory of a meaty fist and fall onto rough board walk. _Damn it. _A myriad of images began to filter through his mind. A young woman with cold, dead eyes that once were a vibrant brown. A coffin in the ground with handfuls of dirt falling with tiny thumps. Ezra shook his head a little to clear away the jumbled thoughts. He took a punch. _I deserved it_. It wasn't the first time.

Things began to fall into place. The hand holding the canteen went limp, letting it hit the ground with a thud. He winced at the sound, remembering a few well placed kicks he took to the side. Looking up at dainty feet and a worn petticoat swinging in the breeze from a homespun hemp rope as he laid out on the cold ground shoulder burning and ribs getting busted by the angry mob he tried to fool. _He had failed her_… He felt his breath leave his lungs in forceful whoosh. There was a loud buzzing in his ears and blackness filtered through the edges of his vision as his knees suddenly shook and threatening to give out.

"Whoa, pard. We gotcha." Strong hands guided him against the trunk and he sank into it closing his eyes.

"I don't think he's suppose to be that color."

"JD, go grab our blankets. He's ice cold and soaked through his clothes."

"Oh Gawd," His accent was thick, "I let them kill her. I let them kill her. I let them kill her." The thought kept flittering across his mind. He felt the weight of her as he tried to hold her up. She struggled against the bonds. She didn't want to die. He felt his shoulder pop and still he stood, letting her breathe, giving her slack.

"Ezra you did good. You did the best you could." Vin sounded like he was cooing to a spooked horse. Ezra shook his head, trying to shed the comfort. He remembered now. It was hazy and broken, but he remembered. Another lynching.

"It wasn't enough. It never seems to be enough."

"Ezra," Vin was trying to get his attention. Briefly their eyes met; dulled green tired and bloodshot to soft blue, "You ain't thinking straight."

Ezra pushed away from the massive tree and felt his frayed nerves on fire, "No, no. She's dead. I let them. I… could… I needed to… I…" Ezra felt the world spinning violently, the past two days rushing past him, and his knees turned boneless as his world went black.

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Ezra was lowered to the ground awkwardly as Vin broke his fall.

"Must be all those damn pies," grunted the tracker. Vin took off his hat and swiped a hand over his own brow. _Damn. _They needed to get off the road. He looked at the slack features of the southern gentleman who continued to surprise him and felt the warmth of fever starting to grow. He stuffed his hat back of his head and stood. They found him first. That had to count for something.

JD came up behind, blankets folded in his arm, looking at the disheveled man unconscious on the edge of the road and sighed. "Not exactly in his best bib and tucker is he?"

"No sir," Vin said with a dry chuckle, "We best find a place to make camp. Someplace inconspicuous. Them boys'll know he's not dead. They may come to finish the job."

"How's he doing?"

"Damn glad he stayed long enough to get his shoulder put back. But everything else seems to be going against us."

"Well, it is about time we do something about that," JD said with a sly smile.

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A few hours later and the midmorning sun was shining bright in the sky. The coolness of dawn had burned off and the heat of the day had settled. JD's bowler sat on top of the saddle bags, his hair was limp with sweat from leaning over the small cook fire. Ezra laid in a few blankets, stripped down and in an uneasy slumber. The gambler mumbled and twitched and sweated. His pants and shirts had been torn into strips and boiled down for bandages. Vin scouted the road looking for danger. Ezra had sure made some enemies leaving the dusty burg of Dry Ridge. JD fingered the drying bandages, listening to the gambler breath heavier, a sure sign of some cracked ribs or maybe bruised lung. _He'll be pissing blood for a few days. _A solid bruise the size of a boot marred the southerner's lower back. JD sighed. This wasn't the adventure he was looking for when he came west. The war was suppose to be over. Instead it still seemed to live and breathe-- first at the Seminole Village and now with the blind anger in Dry Ridge.

JD stood, checked the horses and settled by Ezra. He laid his palm across the creased forehead and felt the clammy heat of a small fever. The bandages were almost dry and they would wrap Ezra ribs, let him rest, and travel a few hours before dark. Once they were home and safe things would look up. They just had to make do until then.

JD wet a scrap of fabric from the newly filled canteens, wrung it out and wiped the cool cloth over Ezra's slack features, trying to keep the swelling and the small fever down. Wetting it again, he laid the damp cloth upon Ezra's brow. In the quiet of the afternoon, with Ezra's soft murmurs of discomfort and the forest's normal rustles, JD found himself thinking back to the last few days. _Damn Ezra and his flannel mouth thinking he can fool everybody_.

It had started out simple before it all went to shit. A telegram came from the new settlement of Dry Ridge who was without a sheriff and a bit lawless. Hell, they were without many a thing a struggling town needed and sheriff was the least of it. A few of the citizens has ridden to Eagle Bend to send telegrams out and it was there that the request for help came. The next morning the trio, JD, Vin and Ezra, rode out to help. _Thank God they didn't send Nathan_, JD thought, running his hand through his hair and putting his bowler back on. _Be grateful for small favors, JD, they are miracles son and don't you forget it. _His mother's voice still chimed clearly in his head even with her two years gone. JD found himself thinking back…


	2. Chapter 2

_A Losing Hand _

_**24-Hour Challenge #3**_

By Lori

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Don't sue me. J

…**Two Days Prior**

Dry Ridge was not much more than a small jail, saloon with rooms for rent and a grocer stocked with the bare necessities. A livery with a blacksmith shop marred the skyline with it's dark silhouette and a short ride away was a quiet crib where a pair of sisters had set up shop.

As they rode over the small ridge that hid the tiny burg from sight, JD smiled widely. This was the true rough and tumble west he had read about. Four Corners, while far from tame, was comfortable and growing more settled each day that passed. Dry Ridge was a tiny mark on the western territories and could disappear as quickly as it was settled. He couldn't help but feel the excitement and the danger that was lurking in the sparse town.

JD's horse nickered quietly drawing his attention back to his companions. Vin paused, looking behind him at their resident gambler. Ezra was stopped a few feet behind, his hat and reins held loosely in his right hand, his horse danced a little impatiently, and his left thumb and forefinger were pulling at his bottom lip. After a long moment, where JD and Vin exchanged worried glances, the gambler put his hat back on and shook his head in disbelief, "You must be joking. This can't be all there is to the town."

Vin chuckled and nudged his horse down the slope into town. JD, smiled, "It doesn't look so bad." He followed Vin's lead and kept moving on.

He heard Ezra and the pack horse follow suit at a slower pace. "Not so bad?" Pure sarcastic horror laced each syllable, "Doesn't. Look. So. Bad. Are we looking at the same place? Not even a bathhouse!" The southern twang had deepened with long hours on the trail.

Vin shook his head and called back, "Come on Ezra. We got a job to do."

"Oh by all means. Let's help these backwater barbarians," Ezra sighed loudly, "One good dust up… Hell, one small fire… this place would be back to dirt and trees. What was it the good folk of Dry Ridge were looking to save?"

JD and Vin let smiles sneak out, amused by the cankerous comments. JD cleared his throat,

"Well, the point is they asked for help and we're here to give it."

"I fail to see how that is the point. Clearly, this is a fool's errand--"

This time, it was Vin who stopped his horse and gave Ezra a pointed look, "Ezra, just button your lip. I ain't looking to offend anyone 'fore we even set foot in town. We'll find these folks their sheriff and then we'll go home. That's the damned point."

Ezra met Vin's stern gaze with one of his own and urged his horse a little faster, passing JD and then Vin, muttering under his breathe. JD swore he heard something about, "Backwater barbarians defending backwater barbarians," but he couldn't be sure. He sighed. It was going to be along few days. He and Vin picked up their own pace and rode into town a few lengths behind their fellow peacekeeper.


	3. Chapter 3

_A Losing Hand _

_**24-Hour Challenge #3**_

By Lori

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Don't sue me. J

**The Present…**

A soft whistle sounded from the tree lined hill above drawing JD back to the present. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and watched as Vin came down a steep slope, Winchester in hand. Vin waved and jogged over to the small camp. JD, feeling the pull of a night of no sleep and much worry, simply nodded back.

Vin spoke softly, "Looks clear." He grabbed a piece of hard tack out of a saddle bag, "Figure we can cut around through these woods and pick up the road to Four Corners. It'll be better than staying on this trail and possibly being ambushed or running into trouble. It'll be a little rougher, but we aren't in a position to court fate."

"That sounds fine."

"He sleeping?"

"Straight through. Seems to be in pain. Talks some nonsense too."

Vin, around a mouthful of hardtack, shrugged in agreement. Pacing in lazy strides around the small fire, "Probably is in pain, JD. He got his bell rung good."

JD sighed, "Yeah. I reckon." He rubbed the back of neck trying to relieve the stiff ache hours of worry left behind. After moment, he gave up, and reached for his saddlebags, "I'm gonna make a little coffee. We'll let him sleep a mite longer and wrap his ribs."

"JD, get some rest. I'll make the coffee. You look like you could use an hour."

JD snorted, trying hard not to laugh out loud, and shook his head as he rummaged through the saddle bags, "Now if that ain't the pot calling the kettle black."

Vin looked at JD for a long moment. The lean sharpshooter watched as he pulled out the small kettle and bag of grounds. Licking his bottom lip, Vin looked around the small camp finally settling on Ezra. The young gunfighter couldn't help but let his gaze wander there too.

Ezra was quiet. Sweat beaded and glistened in the sun by his hairline and jaw. Day old stubble cast his face in shadow, making his paleness more apparent. _He needs proper rest. Hell, we all do. _JD shook his head, trying to clear his mind, as he filled the kettle and put it over the fire to boil.

Vin sighed, a worn out sound, and stood beginning to pace the small campsite, "Alright, we're both tired. I'm not looking for a fight JD."

"Well. Don't offer to make that mud you call coffee. Or else I might have to draw on your sorry hide."

Vin, stopped pacing, fingering the bandages that were almost dry, "Humph. Better than drinking that horse piss you make. Hardly worth drinking. Still…" the tracker turned and sat Indian style against a tree, "One of us should rest a little."

JD shot Vin a withering look as he poured some grounds into the warming water. Slowly he packed up the remaining grounds and stuffed the sack back carefully into the saddle bags. "I'll make this to brew. Shut my eyes for a few minutes. After we take care of Ezra, you can sleep a spell before we head out on the trail."

A scratchy voice cleared its throat, JD looked sharply toward the sound, his hand clasping the butt of his gun, to see the slightly unfocused eyes of Ezra looking at them two. Vin was already up and by the gambler's side. _Man moves like a damn cat… _JD checked the kettle warming on the fire and grabbed a canteen rushing the few feet to Ezra's side.

Ezra's voice sounded hoarse, "If you two are done with that touching tête-à-tête…" The gambler struggled to get an arm under him and let a small hiss of pain slip through clenched teeth when he tried to adjust his weight. He fell back and breathed heavily with his eyes clinched shut, "Not smart, not smart at all."

Vin laid a gentle hand on Ezra's shoulder, "Just lay still Ezra. You're a bit banged up. Everything probably stiffened while you rested."

JD shook the rag that had fallen, wet it again, and wiped Ezra's brow. Ezra's features slowly relaxed. Until the gambler took a dry swallow, "Perhaps... some water…"

"Sure Ezra," JD said. Vin helped sit Ezra up as JD leaned the canteen towards his lips, "Drink slow. You don't want to be spitting it back up with your ribs sore as they are." A few swallows and the gambler meekly pushed the canteen away.

Ezra panted a little, trying to catch his breath, before muttering, "Thank you." Vin started to ease him back down and Ezra, again clenched his eyes shut and pinched his lips into a fine line for a few long moments afterwards. JD just watched with a knot in his stomach. _Those boys sure did a number on him. _

Ezra opened his eyes and asked, "Where the hell are we? And why do I feel like my horse rolled over me?"

"We're a few miles north of Dry Ridge. You got beat pretty well by some folks there. Just take it easy. JD and me'll get you home."

"I don't remember." The gambler's eyes looked a little glazed over.

"You took a good knock to the head. I'm sure it'll come back. Just rest for now. We're keeping watch."

Ezra's eyes flicked over JD's face, then seemed to settle on Vin's, but moved to study the tree tops above them. _Searching… but for what?_ "How far are we from Four Corners?"

"Far enough," JD replied. His voice sounded bitter even to his own ears. Vin reached across, clasped him on the shoulder and squeezed. JD found himself looking away. Shaking off Vin's grasp, he stood and checked the coffee, wiping his face with his hand.

The tracker's Texas twang replied with an irritating calm, "'Bout a day or so. We'll get there. Just let us do the worrying for a spell."

JD poured himself a cup of coffee and began to pace around the small camp. While he listened to Vin and Ezra talk, he couldn't bring himself to look their way. Not with the doubt he felt in his heart. _How would they manage to get Ezra home? _

"My guns?" an edge of panic laced his voice.

"We have them. You'll get 'em back when you can aim straight."

Ezra cleared his throat, "My, um, that is… my clothes?"

JD found himself looking at his fellow peacekeepers then. Lean fingers played unconsciously with the frayed edge of the blanket. A clear tell the gambler was uncomfortable. Vin slouched next to Ezra and his clear blue eyes twinkled in amusement before looking up and meeting JD's look. He could feel the laughter bubble up from his stomach and couldn't stop the loud guffaw that burst from his mouth. Vin joined in too and finally JD felt like things were getting better.

Ezra looked at them both, a small scowl on his face, eyes becoming heavier and unfocused, "I'm so glad to amuse you both." So he was a mite mad. It didn't matter. What did matter was that Ezra was still with them. JD couldn't shed the goofy smile that raced his face. He didn't care to.

A deep, sleepy breath and Ezra kept on, "They aren't ruined? I'll never be able to replace…"

Vin started to laugh again. JD shook his head, dumped the dregs and rinsed out his tin cup. He set it by the fire to dry, threw another small piece of wood into the flames and then laid down against a saddle. JD let one more chuckle out as he placed his hat over his face. He'd nap for a while. _Ezra and his damned clothes…_


	4. Chapter 4

**…Two Days Prior**

The trio tied their horses to the hitching post outside the small saloon. A sign swayed in the light wind, "Rooms for Rent," with the metal chains it hung from creaking in the town's quiet. It made Vin antsy. Something felt out of place.

"Charming," drawled the gambler to himself as they surveyed the town. A few folks were out by the livery. Ezra wore his displeasure plainly, attempting to brush some of the trail dust from his pants, and muttering, "Absolutely useless," under his breath. Vin shrugged, he'd stayed in worst places. Least Dry Ridge was quiet and you could see the land. _Too peaceful for a town looking for a sheriff. _Vin scratched at the stubble on his chin, grabbed his saddle bag and led the way through the batwing doors. The sound of eager footsteps hurrying right behind gave JD away and the noisy, annoyed exhale with soundless feet said Ezra weren't too far behind neither.

The saloon was dimly lit with a few wooden tables scattered haphazardly around the sawdust covered the floor. Light streamed in, catching rising dust dancing, as they crossed to the bar. A lone barkeep wiped out glasses and looked curiously at the newcomers. Vin smiled, trying to look friendly, despite his trail weary appearance. He took in the two in darkened corner, a bottle between them, and moved to his left so he could keep an eye on potential trouble. JD, still naive enough to believe in manners, nodded politely to the men before stepping up to the bar himself.

"Help you boys?" The man had an accent twice as thick as Ezra's. Backwoods, deep south. Maybe Louisiana.

"Been a long, hot ride. Anything cold?"

"Not likely. How 'bout whiskey?"

"Works for me. Three."

The barkeep, a small man with small wire framed glasses, lined up three glasses and poured the whiskey liberally. Vin found himself thankful for the man's heavy hand and placed a coin on the counter. As he tossed back the glass the rough burn of the liquor was welcomed and wet. Ezra took his glass and found a seat in the corner table, back against the wall, his dissatisfaction plain in his posture. Vin heard the saddle bags plop onto the table top and the familiar swish of a hand against fabric as the gambler tried to dust off his jacket once more. JD stood, his back against the bar, sipping his drink, taking in the building and the town outside it.

Vin licked his lips, tasting the husky flavor of the whiskey, and said, "We'd like three rooms. And if you could point us the direction of a Mr. Wallace."

The barkeep looked up at that. Curiosity obvious in his eyes. "Well, this establishment only has two rooms to rent, boys, but y'all are welcome to them. More 'an enough room to double up in them."

"Seems that'll have to do. And Mr. Wallace?"

"More than likely Mike Wallace'll show up here 'fore the day is done."

Vin swallowed a sigh. Wallace was the fellow who sent the telegram asking for help. He was the man who held the answers the needed. The prospect of waiting put Vin on edge. Something wasn't quite right. He could feel it in his bones. "S'ppose that'll have to do too."

Vin motioned to fill his glass, left another coin and took his whiskey to the table Ezra sat frowning at.

The gambler's eyes drifted to meet Vin's, "Whiskey's watered down," and sipped slowly, "Deplorable."

Vin hooked the chair leg with his toe, pulled it out and sank into the hard wood, his ass grateful for something other than the hard ground or his horse's back, "It'll have to do."

Ezra met Vin's eyes briefly before looking beyond, flickering over the saloon's interior, "Yes, well, you've certainly made that clear. You've uttered the phrase a good three times since we've been here."

JD wandered over, coming to lean his back against the wall. A smile graced his dirt smudged face, marks from the trail made the youngest seem a little older, "This is neat. Like how Four Corners must of been like 'fore it got so settled."

Ezra smiled wide, "JD, son. One of these days we'll show you civilized."

"Heck, Ezra. I had my fill of civilized back East," JD took a sip of his whiskey, "Truth be told, I'm just fine with, well, this."

"Touché, Mr. Dunne. Touche." Ezra, took his hat off and ran a hand through sweat soaked hair. His tongue darted out along his bottom lip and he cleared his throat. Vin knew Ezra was working some angle in that convoluted head of his. The gambler leaned forward, "About the rooms…"

Vin held up his hand to stop whatever persuasive and long-winded argument the southener had brewed up, "JD and me'll share. Don't suspect two of us be able to fit with all your personal effects Ezra. Never met a man who needs as much belongings as a woman." Vin smiled over his whiskey glass.

"Not all of us can abide to pass as trail hands, Vin, everyday of the week." With that parting shot, Ezra stood, slung his saddle bags over his shoulder, swallowed his shot of whiskey and placed his hat on his head, "Now, I am going to endeavor to make a few friends. Maybe sucker some poor soul into being sheriff so we can get the hell out of this dustbowl. You two should stay here and keep an eye out for Mr. Wallace." Ezra tipped his hat and smiled wide before stepping soundlessly out the creaky bat-wing doors.

Vin motioned for JD to sit. JD stared off at the still swinging doors where the gambler had passed and shifted his weight from foot to foot. _Torn. _The kid turned, motioned to the bartender for two more and settled into a stiff chair with his back to the wall. _You're catching on, JD_.

Vin followed the kid's eyes as they took in the dim interior. _Not even a damn dirty picture on the wall_. The wooden boards were rough, textured with knots and bare as could be. Too dim to cast a shadow as the barkeep placed two more shots of whiskey on there table, the liquor sloshing over the rim of the glass, and walked away with heavy footsteps.

JD pulled his over and took a sip. Quietly, in voice only for Vin to hear, "He is a friendly sort of fellow. Wonder if he'd be sheriff?"

Vin felt himself smile and gestured to the door, "Figure Erza's up to something."

"Usually is. But if it gets us home sooner I'm probably for it."

They both chuckled at the that and clinked their glasses together in a brotherly toast ignoring the curious stares from the two men drinking across the room.


	5. Chapter 5

-1**The Present…**

From across the small makeshift camp Ezra listened to JD softly snore. It was a quiet, breathy sound that was reassuring in its consistency. Ezra surmised that Vin sat to his immediately left. Sharp metal could be heard flaking away flecks of bark and the scent of a damp leather jacket carried on the afternoon breeze. _Whittling something. Too much time with Chris. _Ezra, for his part, laid quietly with his eyes closed trapped between exhaustion and insomnia feigning sleep. Vin surely knew he was awake, but pretending was simply easier than trying to talk through the headache squeezing his head.

Things fell apart in Dry Ridge. _Maybe my mother was right… _He was tired, bruised and sore. _But I am alive._ His memories of the last few days still felt disjointed, but slowly he recalled that past few days. It left a bitter taste in is mouth. _Maybe I have lost my edge…_ And Ezra found himself wanting to forget. He had meant to save her_. The road to hell…_ Hell, he was never the kind of man who could change the way of the world._ He needed to stop trying…_His time in Dry Ridge made that clear.

Ezra shifted with a soft grunt and tried to ease the ache in his shoulder. In the background, in the midst of all the ache and hazy memories, Ezra felt jittery. A feeling that saved him on more than one occasion. He wasn't safe. There was danger somewhere. Damned if he knew what it was or looked like, but it was on the edges of his perception like bad feeling that slinked and lurked and stalked. Ezra shifted, trying to sit up. It was time to move on. He placed some weight on his bad shoulder and his cracked ribs protested fiercely. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Ezra let out a groan before he could muffle it.

The whittling stopped and Vin's quiet voice floated close by, "Easy pard." A moment later Vin was by his side with a firm hand on his good shoulder, "Take it slow now."

Ezra cursed softly and slumped. His shoulder burned and his midsection ached fiercely. He wasn't running anywhere. He was stuck. And scared. Ezra swallowed and worked some moisture into his mouth, "I'm fine." He couldn't quite find the motivation to open his eyes. He kept them clenched as the pain ebbed.

Vin snorted, "If this is your fine Ezra…."

With a sigh, Ezra tried to shift position again, adjusting his weight. He clenched his eyes shut at the discomfort moving caused and let out a shaky breath. _Damn, that hurt. _

"…I'd sure hate to see you laid up."

Vin squeezed his shoulder and gently tucked the blanket around his torso. Ezra managed to open one eye and meet Tanner's look, "Yes, well. Perhaps 'fine' is not entirely accurate."

A cool, moist cloth was placed on his brow. It eased some of the tension and felt blissfully cool against his warm sticky skin. He let out a little sigh.

"You're a little warm Ezra. Been fighting a fever off and on." The cloth was lifted and Vin wiped his face and neck with the cooling material.

He felt himself blush with embarrassment and tense with the intimacy. Vin, who noticed most everything, wrung the cloth out and soaked it with canteen water again, "I ain't exactly enjoying it either so don't get your dander up. You got enough problems without burning up with fever."

Ezra turned his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear it. Not eye to eye. Reduced to just laying like a useless lump. When something inside was screaming at him. _Move. Run. Hide._ Tanner wiped his neck with sure, gentle strokes. A stark contrast to the churning in his stomach. The one discomfort that had little to do with his physical injuries. Instinct was kicking in. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. His heart beat fast and thudded in time the throbbing in his head. _This is insane_. Vin just kept on. Steady as a rock. Wet the fabric, applied till warm, rung it out, and repeated the whole thing over. _You're a sitting duck Standish. You all are. _Ezra reached up, and grabbed Vin by the wrist, "Stop."

"I didn't mean to hurt ya. I--"

"You aren't hurting me, Vin," Ezra paused and swallowed. He was tired, "You need to take JD and go. It isn't… it doesn't feel safe. Something--"

"It ain't something Ezra. It is someone," Vin sighed, "A few someones in fact. You ain't thinking straight. Can't remember it clearly yet."

Ezra clenched his free hand into a fist, before turning to meet Vin's eye. He swallowed, "I remember enough. I'm suppose to dead Vin. They meant me dead."

Vin's eyes never wavered as he answered, "Well, suppose they got to live with the fact they only done half the job."

Ezra squeezed Vin's wrist before letting it go. He tried to make Vin understand. "I don't think they're done Vin. If you two are here, when they find me--"

A clear, northern tinged voice came across the camp, "They'll wish they never tried to finish the job."

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment. _JD. Damn._ "I thought you were sleeping."

JD rose and stretched, "A body can't get any sleep with you two yapping like you were. And besides, you're the one s'ppose to be sleeping," JD walked to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. He scratched his head and took a sip, "Besides, I ain't the one trying to con Vin."

Ezra tried to sit up at that, ignoring the fire that that burned in his shoulder and midsection, "I was not--"

"Yeah. Yeah you were," Vin said. He helped Ezra sit up, "That's exactly what you were doing."

He shook his head in protest. "No, I was being logical." _Why did they not understand? _

It was JD who responded, chuckling over the side of his tin cup. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, "Well, hell with logical at this point. You ain't done a logical thing since you set foot in Dry Ridge Ezra."

Again, Ezra felt the need to protest, "That is not true. That--" He tried to shift, to sit up farther, biting his cheek against the strain. Vin's silent presence was there as his solid hands held up some of Ezra's weight as his body began to give up.

JD knelt, his voice level and serious, "Ezra. What you did was stupid and dangerous. Heck, it sure was noble. But it weren't logical," JD sighed and sat back on his heels. For a moment the kid wasn't just a kid. Ezra caught a glimpse of the man JD was growing up to be, "Maybe, somewhere in that backwards thinking head of yours it was logical."

Ezra sagged in defeat, leaning into Vin and tasting a few drops of coppery blood where he bit the tender flesh of his mouth, "I was just trying to stop it. To keep you two safe. To… They would have… It…" He couldn't find the words.

"We know Ezra." Vin squeezed his good shoulder, "An Indian-lover and a Yankee wouldn't have left Dry Ridge. It just would have been nice if you let us know what the hell was happening."

"It needed to be believable."

No one said anything for a long minute. Vin staring into the dying fire, JD staring into the murky contents of his mug, and Ezra not doing much beside breathing. The fire crackled, the horses could be heard shifting, and the wind blew gently shaking the trees.

Then, just as suddenly as silence had descended, Tanner snorted, then chuckled shaking his head. He snickered again and managed to spill out, "I was just thinking. No one in Four Corners is going to believe JD to shut up for a whole day."

JD smiled wide, "Or that you talked Vin into wearing one of your trail jackets instead of his buckskin."

Ezra felt his own mouth split into a grin, "Well, it isn't my fault the folks in Dry Ridge believed just about anything."


End file.
